A Shelter in the Storm
by JackFan2
Summary: Jack and Ana must weather bumpy seas in their new found relationship. Admissions of love don't come easy, but the heart won't be silenced it will always find a way to speak.
1. Fair Wind or Foul

Author's Notes: Well, if anything, this will let you know I'm alive. I am working on a third chapter to this story, albeit slowly. First, however, my muse has taken me a different direction with a one-shot that I will be posting soon. Secondly, I just couldn't let the numerous errors' remain in this chapter. So, here it is, corrected and re-edited. Actually, I've added a bit to it; if it's of interest to read again, by all means do so.  I'll be correcting Best Intentions Gone Wrong over the coming months.  Much of it will be rewritten and revised.  If it's of any interest, I'm outlining a longer story that I hope to begin posting in a couple of months. SHELTER IN THE STORM 

**Chapter 1: Fair Wind, or Foul**

**_(Revised, Re-Edited and Re-Written, for my sanity)_**

****

She stood at the door to her captain's cabin and stared. Jack sat slumped at his table, his head cradled in his hands. With wet clothes hugging his body, his silhouette trembled as he shook from the cold.

_Idiot!_ She thought angrily. _He stands there in the freezing rain steering his precious Pearl in this storm. Stubborn fool! How many times did Gibbs offer to spell him? 'No,' he'd say, 'Ana just gave me a break.' _Without knowledge of the previous she'd offered to take over at the wheel, and received much the same answer,_ 'No need,' _he'd shouted above the galling winds,_ 'I just got back. Gibbs was just here.'_

It wasn't until the storm had abated that it came to light. While she was in the galley fixing a hot drink to remove the chill, she and Gibbs got their first opportunity to talk . . . 

~*~*~

           "How'd she handle for you on those breakers?" Gibbs asked conversationally.

Ana turned slowly from the counter and stood staring at Gibbs. Blinking in confusion, she shook her head and answered, "You should know better than me, you were just at the helm an hour ago…" Her words trailed off as she saw Gibbs's brow furrow in puzzlement.

Between the two of them they managed to piece together the events of the past ten hours. Jack had declined offers to take a break and, true to Jack Sparrow form, he'd done so via the path of least resistance. He'd lied. 

It had been ten long hours since that storm blew in. Ten hours that he had spent standing in the freezing cold and rain. Ten hours laboring to keep the Pearl upright against gale-force winds. Ana didn't even want to think about the strain of so many hours, fighting and pulling on the wheel, struggling against the constant fatigue… 

Of course, it was so very much like Jack Sparrow to work himself to exhaustion in fear for his ship. Time and time again she had seen it since the day they'd pulled him out of the Caribbean waters following his near-fatal tryst with the noose? How many times had they nearly had to carry him to his cabin, beaten and dead-tired from long hours at the helm?

Sighing in exasperation, Ana spun back to the counter. Grabbing another tankard out of the cupboard, she slammed it down angrily. Next, she brought out a musty, nearly full tin of tea, and a jar of honey. "Bloody idiot … Daft … fool …" she murmured as she worked. 

Spinning back around, she'd every intention to continue ranting at the Pearl's quartermaster. Her mouth froze open as she glanced around the room knowingly. At some point, Gibbs had obviously left the room, as quietly as possible. Smart man, she nodded quickly. Unlike some she knew.

With that last thought burning in her mind, she huffed irately to the empty room as she turned again back to her task. "Blathering . . . what does he think he's doing . . .  Idiot . . ." her choleric epithets echoed in the ship's galley.

~*~*~

With the storm finally subsided, Cotton ascended the quarterdeck. Casting a glancing look to the helm, the sight of the man behind the wheel caused him to do a strong double take. The sailor stopped cold. Brow scrunched in concern, the older man's aged face scrutinized the condition of the Pearl's captain. 

Right off, Cotton noted that even with the storm over some two hours now, water continued to drip in copious amounts from the dark figure's hair and clothing. Next, he noticed how the captain leaned heavily on the wheel, shoulders slouched, and fingers gripped tightly to the spindles of the wheel. That grip, the old sailor saw, was mottled white from the pressure of his hold and tinged blue from the cold.  The captain's entire body trembled as he stood, and by all rights he should have collapsed. Cotton suspected, however, that his too-tight grip on the helm was all that kept him upright. And lastly, there was no mistaking the sound of gold-capped teeth as they chattered together uncontrollably. 

Shaking his head slowly, Cotton could only imagine the depth of misery the man must be feeling. But Jack Sparrow wasn't the first captain the muted pirate had known who spent numerous shifts at the helm without rest. Unlike most of the others, however, this was the first captain the old man had sailed under in quite some time that he was actually fond of. He was different, this man who was not quite sane, and not quite insane.  One could never be sure if the swaggering pirate captain was inebriated or daft, or both,  but he treated men fairly, even when the world and friends he'd thought he could trust had turned on him. By all rights, this man should be bitter and every bit as bad as . . . Well, he wasn't though, and for that, Cotton would follow him to the ends of the earth; blindly, if need be.  And so would the rest of the crew.

Shaken from his musings, the old sea dog realized the captain's dark gaze was fixed solidly on him. With an almost imperceptible nod, Cotton stepped toward the man at his silent request. Time, now, to get his captain out of the elements.

~*~*~

Soaked to the bone, completely and utterly, he felt like his head would explode. _God, what was that unbearable clattering?_  His mind struggled sluggishly to discern its origin. With a wince he drew back slightly, belatedly realizing that it was sound of his own teeth chattering incessantly together. It echoed unmercifully within the chamber of his tired, aching mind. His eyes hurt, his face hurt, God, even his beard hurt. Even the hand touching his arm hurt . . .  Wait. . . was that a hand touching his arm? Last he'd checked, he only had two hands and they were both solidly, painfully, inescapably frozen to the wheel.

Transfixed with fascination, Jack's gaze watered as he watched the weathered hand move down toward his. Slowly, the creased hand began prying his fingers loose of the spokes to which he clung for support. Pins and needles began shooting through his arms as the movement renewed blood flow that had long since ceased. All in all, the return of feeling definitely had its drawbacks. Mostly, he decided he much preferred the numbness to this bloody, muscle needling, fire that now trailed up and down his arms.

The pirate captain flinched in pain as the aged fingers brought his now-freed hand up, giving aching shoulder muscles the opportunity to howl in protest. If he had been capable of some kind of speech, Jack would have lent the pain a resounding scream. Instead, he watched in silence as the old sailor pressed his own shoulder underneath Jack's, offering support to the captain's sagging frame.  The pirate stared with bleary eyes while the older man reached across to begin working the other hand free of the steerage. Once released, Jack tried to put his weight on his knees, only to have them buckle beneath him instantly.  Cotton slipped his arm around the commander's waist and helped him to his feet, seemingly effortlessly. 

The pirate captain could feel the old mariner's alarmed gaze on him, but pride held his eyes fixed straight ahead. While he was grateful for Cotton's assistance, he was determined to reclaim his autonomy and exit the deck under his own power in front of his crew. No way Captain Jack Sparrow would be seen being carried off to his cabin, not if he was still conscious. So, first thing's first. One must have feeling in one's legs to walk, even when said 'feeling' burned like the fires of Hades scorching him to the bone. Slowly, he shifted his weight from side to side, striving to return awareness to his numb legs and feet. He much preferred the lack of sensation, but one had to do whatever was necessary. 

Finally, his bead-adorned head nodded curtly and the grizzled man carefully stepped away.  Though Jack appreciated being afforded the dignity of walking back to his cabin on his own, he couldn't help but notice that his crewman didn't walk too far behind.  Just a precaution, he understood, but one for which he was quietly grateful. 

~*~*~

Stepping into the large cabin, Ana strode purposefully to the dark mahogany table and slammed a tankard down with a solid thud. Having not heard her enter, the sodden figure jumped, startled to the point that he was nearly unseated. 

"Drink!" she said in a commanding voice. Planting her hands on her hips she glared heatedly at him.

Bringing his head up from his hands, he looked balefully from her to the steaming container and grinned. "Ah!" he exclaimed in anticipation.

With trembling hands, he tilted the tankard to his mouth. The moment the warm liquid touched his tongue, Jack sputtered, spraying the contents in various directions. "Bloody… tastes like… bilge water," he choked out between coughs.

"Hm… serves ye right. Now that I've got your attention..."  She took the tankard and added a good measure of rum from a flask she had hidden in her belt.

"No wonder," his voice rasped. With tremulous hand he reached for the drink with rekindled fervor.

As he sat sipping the hot beverage, Ana reached a hand over and slipped her fingers under the soaked bandana. _Damn it_, she thought irritably, _much too damned hot._  Gently, she grabbed his upper arm and hauled him to his feet.  Without taking the time to meet his eyes, she took the tankard from his slightly trembling fingers and set it back on the table alongside his hat.  "Let's get this off you," she murmured, sliding the heavily sopping wet jacket off his shoulders.  

"Remember… when you gave this t' me, luv?"

"Aye, I do, ye fool," she said, helping him peel his saturated shirtsleeves out of the fully drenched coat.  _'Captain Sparrow,' _she had said, thrilling inwardly at the gratitude she saw in his eyes when she used his proper title, _'the Black Pearl is yours.'_  

With a squelch, the coat landed on the floor by the cabin door.  Ana's nimble fingers moved to the sash around his waist and Jack pulled the corner of his mouth into a crooked smile.  

"As much as I'd like to, luv…" he tried to jest, but it was weak, strained.

"Shut up, ye damned halfwit."  _Get him taken care of_, she preached to herself, _then ye can tell him what's what.  _With a glance at his face, she realized it was taking far too much concentration for her pirate to stay upright, and Anamaria unconsciously sped up her movements.  Deftly, she opened his waistcoat, and slid the hardened fabric over his shoulders.  After sending it to meet the overcoat by the door, she tangled her fingers in his shirt and gave a sharp tug, freeing it from the confines of his breeches.  

Jack's eyebrows arched in mild surprise when her fingers met the searing heat of his body.  She skimmed her hands over his chest, lifting the sopping shirt over his head.  With a less than convincing smile, he raised his arms to help her unclothe him.  With a loud splat, the wet cloth smacked to the floor.

Ana cast a furtive glance at Jack. He stood quietly, his chin resting on the hard muscle of his chest, not seeming to stir at all.  Bending at the waist, Ana leaned down, straining to look under the veil of black, trinket-ridden hair.  His stillness unnerved her, and she desperately sought to find his eyes, to see that unique _Sparrowness_ that would tell her he would be all right.

"Jack?"

He inhaled suddenly and lifted his head, slowly opening his eyes. A weak gold-toothed grin tipped one side of his face, but he couldn't hold it long and he began to sway more than what was normal for him.

"I think I should like very much t' lie down, luv."

Every angry word she'd been planning to say died instantly at the simple utterance of that admission. He looked so very tired and he was still shivering; she simply didn't have the heart to yell at him…yet.

Quickly grabbing an extra blanket off the nearby bed, she wrapped it around his shoulders and gently sat him back down in the chair.

"Not just yet, capn'," she soothed. "Finish the drink first."  Grabbing the tankard, she thrust it back at him.  

He was thinking of refusing her.  She could tell just by the way his brow pinched together, so she was ready when he sat back from the proffered drink. She arched an eyebrow in silent dare for him to argue, no quarter in her determined gaze.

Unable to deny that look, Jack capitulated, rolling his eyes and taking the tankard as she'd ordered.  

"Foot." Jack lifted one leg as she proceeded to remove his boot.  "You know Jack," she said struggling with his footwear, "Gibbs and I are plenty good at navigating a ship through a storm."

The words slowly took hold in his weary mind and the pirate captain looked blearily at the woman kneeling before him.  "Aye, but she's m' Pearl, luv. She's m' home."

"And you don't trust me, or Gibbs, t' handle 'er, that it?" she demanded as she finished removing the other boot.

Silence permeated the room and Ana sat on her heels staring down at her hands. Wordlessly, Jack slid off the chair to come to his knees facing her. Placing his hand underneath her chin, he gently tilted her face up to meet his eyes, his expression of genuine concern and surprise.

"Ana, luv, I trust ye with far more than this ship. She may be m' home, luv, but you . . . you're m' heart, m' living soul, m' very breath—"

Two of her fingers gently placed on his lips silenced him. Smiling softly, she began gently caressing his cheek, ebbing the flow of emotion before it could become too much for her fevered captain. 

Chuckling softly she said, "I only asked why you didn't trust me or Gibbs with the ship." She blinked back the tears, knowing that they would tear at Jack as nothing else could.

*          *          *

Jack looked at her earnestly as an even more serious emotion played on his face. Tilting his head to one side, he measured her tone, trying to decide if she really sought an answer. Did he trust her?  It was more complicated than that.  But he wouldn't placate her, he had to much respect for her abilities to do that.

Taking hold of the hand that caressed his face, he turned it over and placed a gentle kiss on the pulse point of her wrist, then his coffee colored eyes met hers in a plea for understanding.

"How many times, Ana, have you sailed in a storm with cresting waves of twelve feet at their peak? How many times have you sailed the Pearl nearly blind, only able to tell where to go by the way her bones creaked underneath you? Luv, have you ever listened to her talk to ya?  Listened as she tells you through her hull that the shoals you couldn't see were far too near when she gently scraped the bottom?" He said, hoping his tone was as gentle as he'd intended it to be.

She dipped her head down, but he gently lifted it again, begging with his own eyes for her to understand, for her to be able to accept what he had said as the simple truth, not a negative assessment of her skills.  To his relief, she nodded slowly.  He was right and she knew it. 

"Well, Captain, I think it's time for you to get some rest." She helped him to stand and, with an arm around his waist, they moved toward the bed.  With only the smallest amount of chagrin, he realized that his body was still trembling, and that Ana was supporting far more of his weight than he would have liked. 

*          ~*~      *

Her exhausted captain sighed in contentment as he hit the soft mattress; even his breath seemed to tremble. Covering him with extra blankets didn't help either; the mountain of covers just moved with him.

Laying a hand on his cheek, she felt the fire burning his skin and concern etched her features. _He needs more warm liquids, _she decided quietly and moved to leave.

"Luv?"

She felt quivering, callused fingers curl around her hand and turned back to him with a smile.  Though his pull was weak, she allowed herself to be guided down to her knees beside his bed.  Brushing a beaded lock from his eyes, she shook her head gently.  "Ya need sleep, Jack Sparrow," she scolded quietly.

Despite the fact that his eyes were barely open at all, and that he looked ready to doze off at any second, he forced his words through still-chattering teeth.  "Y' goin' t' come back, luv?  Res' w' me?"

Idly playing with a trinket in his hair, Ana smiled at his slurred question. Bending down, she placed a tender kiss on his warm cheek.

"Aye, just need t' check on the ship, make sure we get done what needs doin' before weighing anchor. When I come back I'll rest with you on one condition." 

"Condition?" he sighed. "Luv, I don' think I'm in any condition for conditions," he said through a stifled yawn.

Silence.

Opening one eye, he peered up at her. She fought a smile and remained unresponsively stoic.

Heaving a great, long-suffering sigh he finally asked, "A'right what condition?"

"When I get back, I'll bring another one of those Toddies and you'll drink it, all of it, before I crawl into tha' bed. Understood?" The last of her words Jack acknowledged with a weary nod as his eyes drifted shut again.

"We've an accord…." he paused, interrupted by another yawn " … luv…. Jus' don' . . . take t' long. . .  a' right?" 

So quietly had he spoken that Anamaria had had to lean in to hear. Then, rearranging the covers higher on his now slumbering form, she sat back on her heels and observed him a moment.

She recalled the words, _"… you're m' heart, m' living soul, m' very breath…"_  That was the closest to an admission of love as she'd ever heard wrung from the pirate's lips.  Her mouth curled into a wry smile as she rose to her feet. Lowering the lamp light to a dim amber glow, she moved quietly to the door, taking the mostly empty tankard with her. Pausing, Anamaria looked back and whispered softly into the stillness, "I love you too, Jack Sparrow."

***End***

Second Note: This chapter was beta read and edited by Rat and Yakkorat. My heart-felt thanks to you both.  You lift me up.


	2. Beltane

**Chapter 2: Beltane**

_In the shadows of the mind, a nightmare is real when you don't know it's a dream._

"Well, well… and 'ow are we 'dis evening Monsieur Sparrow? Sleep well?"

It took several long blinks before Jack could respond. His wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding, his arms fatigued and numb. His legs struggled to support his weight, but time and physical torment had robbed him of much of his strength.

"Sleep?" Jack's voice rasped. "Is'at what I was doing? You've a funny definition of tha' word mate."

"Ah well, I 'ave 'ad a nice dinner and de lamb, cooked to perfection, so tender and rare with just de right amount of blood pooling on de plate— Oh.. pardon moi, I forgot, you 'aven't eaten 'ave you?" 

Jack's legs straightened under him to shift some of the pressure off his straining shoulders. He sneered at the callous remarks. How long had it been since he'd eaten… or had anything to drink… or slept? He fought to remain passive in spite of the comment.

"You know," Beltane continued, "you could 'ave as much as you want to eat, to drink, and I shall even let you a nice soft bed to rest in with a willing female to tend your wounds. All I want in return Sparrow, is de location of the Pearl, and de shipments you stole."

Sighing in an attempt to convey boredom, Jack replied, "How long have we been at this, eh Beltane? This little game of question, torture, beat, and poke the pirate with hot fiery pieces of steel?"

As he donned thick black gloves to protect his hands, Beltane replied. "What, dis? You 'ave been 'ere nearly 18 hours, I believe. Why?"

Picking up a longer metal rod that sat on the edge of a glowing red fire, Beltane used it to stir the contents of a shallow metal dish. The dish sat on a fire, and smoke rose from the sides. The contents were thin slivers of steel, approximately 1 inch in length with very sharp points, heated to a glowing red. Jack swallowed as he watched the fiery demons swirl.

"Ah… and what information have ye gotten out of me in all that time? Noth'n. Abso-bloody-lutley, noth'n. Let's see, you've tried drownin', starvin', beatin' and now more of those 'little red devils'. Really mate, I thought you were such a smart bloke, when actually you're quite stupid if--."

Beltane viciously plunged one of the small red-hot pieces of steel into the flesh just above Jack's ribcage and glared murderously at him as he reached for another.

"I grow weary of 'dis game Sparrow." Another entered his flesh, causing Jack's muscles to spasm in pain.

"I want de Pearl, I want de shipments, or I'll separate every inch of your flesh from your body." Jack's head dropped back as he reeled from the pain of more hot pieces of steel entering his tissue.

The Frenchman stepped closer to drive yet another hot steel pin into the pirates' already bleeding, agonizing flesh. At that moment, Jack decided that it was time to give back a small measure of the pain he'd received. 

With a speed that caught the Frenchman totally by surprise, Jack reared his head back, then brought it down swiftly. The end result was his forehead connecting solidly with Beltane's face in a resounding smack!

Stumbling back Beltane clutched his bleeding nose as blood streamed between his fingers. Stinging from the pain, his murderous gaze shifted immediately to his two henchmen on either side of the now sneering pirate.

_"Fais payer le crétin pour ce qu'il m'a fait... Tout de suite!"_ Beltane shouted. ("Make the bastard pay for what he's done to me…NOW!")

Sneering at Beltane, Jack's own head swam dizzily at the connecting blow, and he tensed as his hazy mind translated Beltane's command. He closed his eyes as fists pummeled his sides relentlessly. 

Pain quickly engulfed him as he retreated in his mind to escape the brutality. Bound as he was, it was his only means of escape. Unable to fight back, he'd gone there before… hidden there… that place where nothing tormented…. nothing hurt…. nothing…

In that place he severed all connection with reality…. Creating instead a new void where he filled it with a mental serenity that his body could not find, but his mind could create… separate from his physical pain… a place to sit and wait out the storm…

~~

_Freedom, The Pearl… waves lap at her sides as she gently rocked him, soothed him. He is one with her; a single entity drifting in the warm Caribbean Sea, the salty spray caresses his face. His eye fixed on the horizon the sky explodes with the color of the slowly setting sun. Hues of red melting into orange, sifting finally to pink, and greeting him as he drifts. He closes his eyes._

_Opening his eyes again, the sky was now an inky ocean of twinkling stars with a heavy full moon lighting the water below. The sailor's guide, unchanging, unflappable, unending; the constellations twinkle to greet and guide him on his journey. Telling him where his next adventure lies, giving him hope and lending him strength, easing his worries in their consistency._

_The sound of the sails flapping gently in the night air make him feel like he's flying, soaring drifting far above the world. He sits there waiting, hiding, wondering…_

_~~_

Drifting slowly back to reality, Jack realized the blows were finally ended. Breathing brought new feelings of pain and he now had broken ribs to add to the rest of his problems. He shortened his breathing to shallow gasps, attempting to avoid the pain that deep breaths brought.

Something else was different too, Jack noted. Cautiously he attempted to move his head forward, almost instantly his breathing was constricted as he began choking. Lifting his head up, the noose slackened to ease the tightness. A rope had obviously been secured around his neck and anchored to a point somewhere behind him to confine his movement. 

Apparently, Beltane didn't what Jack had done and the pirate found that incredibly funny. Laughing was painful, but worth the effort as he forced the sound louder making sure the Frenchman heard. Coughs ensued as he continued to gasp and laugh.

Head tilted back, Beltane sat in a chair holding a cloth over his nose. His henchmen scrambled in and out of the room to aid their boss in stemming the flow of blood from his wounded face.

When the laughing reached beyond the ringing in his head, Beltane shot an incredulous look at the pirate. Even the thugs that had beaten him stopped their activity to stare.

"_Tu ne me feras pas plier, salaud._ _Ton métier a tué un de mes amis, et ton cargo est le prix que je demandais pour sa vie._ Yer trade killed a friend of mine; your shipments are payment for his life. That was enough at the time, but now… now, I swear that I will hunt you down and kill you. If I die here, I will haunt ye from the grave. _D'une façon ou d'une autre, tu es un homme mort, Beltane._" The vehemence in Jack's voice sent a cold chill down Beltane's spine. 

Still clutching his bleeding nose, he stood and walked slowly toward his captive in awe at what he just heard. "You. . . you speak French?" Beltane asked barely above a whisper.

"_Oui._" Jack read the surprise in his face and grinned as he continued. "_Et de mon point de vue, tu es un enfant de putain mort et enterré." _("And from where I stand, you are one dead, bloody, son of a bitch.")

Emotions ranging from shock, to fear, then amazement and finally settling on rage- all played out plainly on the Frenchman's face. Noting this only made Jack grin all the more.

Shaking with rage, Beltane, for the first time in his life, found no words to counter what was said. Never before had someone out maneuvered him, out thought him, out guessed him, beaten him at his own game. His pride was wounded and he'd be dammed if he'd allow that go unanswered.

Taking a deep breath, the Frenchman struggled for control of his temper. If he wasn't careful, he'd kill the pirate before he got the information he sought. Walking away quickly from his captive's bloody, beaten form, Beltane poured a cup of water. _Breathe_, he though… must relax.

"Do you know what 'appens when de little metal needles dig into your flesh?"

"Is 'at a trick question?" Jack coughed, breathing as shallow as possible.

"No Sparrow… de pain is only the beginning. 'De 'ot metal needles are now, even as we speak, cauterizing inside your flesh becoming one with your muscle tissue and skin. I 'ave kept count. Want to know 'ow many I've dug into your flesh?"

Staring at Beltane through wavy vision Jack blinked slowly then dragged his eyes back open. He was fast losing his battle to stay conscious.

"No but I'll wager you're t'tell me right?"

The sneer on Beltane's face was pure evil as he announced, while holding in his gloved hand another red glowing metal pin, "Three 'undred, fifty….. SIX!?" -and plunged the one in his hand in at the last.

Jack sucked in a deep breath, the excruciating pain to his ribs competing with the pain of the newly inserted needle.

"By this time tomorrow all 'dat metal in your body will poison your blood, making you very, very ill. Fever and finally infection." Shrugging as if he cared not, "Unless you die from starvation. Who's to say which will be first to claim you eh?"

With that Jack's vision blurred and his head lolled to the side. It was the only direction he could go with the choking rope around his neck, the slipknot forcing his head upright.

"Oh, no, no, no, no,…Wake up Sparrow," Beltane grabbed a hand full of Jack's hair and viciously shook him. "You are not allowed yet to pass out me. TALK TO ME! WHERE IS 'DE PEARL?! WHERE!?"

Dragging his eyes back open, Jack looked at Beltane's face, now mere inches from his own. But just far enough away that Jack couldn't attack him again. Tasting the metallic fluid of blood rising in the back of his mouth and he decided to lash out again, using what ever he had…

"Go to hell." The pirate replied, followed by the exodus of blood spat in Beltane's face.

Releasing Sparrow's head Beltane reeled back once more.

"You're a fool Sparrow." He said as he brought out a kerchief to wipe at the blood on his face. "A shame too, for one so young as you shall meet his end."

Beltane gloved his hands once again and reached for the longer steel rod that he'd used earlier to stir the small metal needles. He lifted it and the glowing tip cast a red and orange hue to his face. Peering over the rod, he sneered at the pirate.

"But I must admit," He said as he walked toward his captive. "You've impressed me. 'Dere 'ave been few men to last as long as you and not break. Your fortitude amazes me, even in your foolishness."

Jack tensed as he could feel the heat of the rod not an inch from his flesh. He could feel his own skin smoking from the heat as Beltane hovered the red-hot steel over the surface of his torso, seemingly contemplating where to place it.

"I shall just 'ave to find de Pearl on my own... and find her I shall."

So this was it… Beltane had finally reached the end of his patience, Jack thought. _Oh well, it's better this way._ Jack had been able to exact a small measure of revenge on Guedry's behalf and that would have to suffice.

Better to get him angry enough to get this over with. End it. NOW.

Laughing interrupted by hoarse coughing shook Jack's body as he replied, "You'd best hurry it up mate, b'cause your 'clients' I'm sure are none to happy to be out their goods eh? You'll never, ever find the Pearl and I will die satisfied that you will die right behind me. Once your 'clientele' gets a hold of you, then I shall see you in hell."

The Frenchman's face reddened in anger as he swiftly lowered the red-hot metal to Jack's shoulder, the smell of singed hair and burning flesh mingling with the intense pain.

Jack had just begun to retreat into his trance that separated him from the pain when a distant but familiar whistling sound caught his ear. He snapped his head quickly to the right to listen. 

Seeing the pirates' sudden change in demeanor, Beltane froze. The French trader turned his head to the side in an attempt to hear what it was that had demanded his captives' attention.

Cannon fire. The whistling became louder as the balls drew closer.

Both the men turned back facing one another. In unison, their eyes locked. They both heard the sucking silence that always occurred just moments before life shattered.

Pain forgotten, Jack grinned. "Glad you didn't move me further inland mate."

Beltane's eyes widened in surprise and fear.

Chaos ensued as the impacts, first distant, now closed in shaking the ground beneath them. The approaching balls became louder and the nearest created an impact so devastating that the room around them began to disintegrate. The ground shook violently as debris fell from the ceiling and walls.

The occupants of the room crumbled to the floor under the weight of the world that collapsed on top of them, as the room they occupied turned to rubble and Jack's nightmare ended.

****

Sitting up suddenly, Jack felt confused and dazed as he looked around the room. He buried his head in his hands as the sudden movement caused his head to swim.  His breathing came harsh and ragged, and his body trembled with chills even as he was bathed in sweat.

The dream felt so real. REAL? It _was_ real, it was more than a dream, it was a memory, and one that he hadn't dealt with in over a decade. 

Even knowing the nightmare was buried deep in the past, in his unfocused and bewildered state he found himself frantically searching for the enemy that haunted him.

_I need a drink_, he thought, and moved aside the blanket covering him, he planted both feet on the floor of the cabin and stood hastily. The abrupt action brought on a wave of dizziness and he reached back to make sure the bed was still there as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of it.

His head began pounding furiously, lancing sharply behind his eyes. The room too began to spin, and in response, he slammed his eyes tightly shut. 

This didn't help as the room still spun in the darkness of his mind. Worse than that, Beltane's face invaded the shadowy blackness and sensations pricked his skin as he could feel the hot needles piercing his flesh. 

His eyes sprung open wide to erase the image, but the pain in his head intensified and the throbbing in his head increased. His hands clenched at his temples as he squeezed his eyes closed again and he tilted forward from his seat on the bed to find himself kneeling on the floor groaning in frustration.

The memories flooded, the pain increased and his body winced at the needles piercing his skin. Suddenly, something touched his shoulder and his mind saw Beltane's face. The Frenchman sneered as he grabbed Jack's shoulder to shake him awake, saying, _"No, Sparrow, you will NOT fall asleep on me.." _

The memory was different this time; his hands weren't shackled, they were mobile. This time he could fight back and he would. He lashed out quickly striking at the image invading his mind.

Hearing something fall in the room, outside his mind's reach, Jack opened his eyes and focused carefully on the very real image before him. 

Ana. She sat on the floor only a few feet away, her lip bleeding, her hair dishevelled. The look in her eyes was wild, frightened, and confused.

Remembering the very real feeling of flesh connecting with his hand, Jack put two and two together and realized with a shock what had happened.

"Oh God, Ana." He made to move toward her but her eyes widened and she shuffled quickly away from him, her eyes now narrowed filled with wariness, wary of him.

It was clear she would not let him close and he couldn't blame her. Self-loathing and self-disgust clouded his throat and he swallowed hard, accepting her refusal. 

Nodding, he rose unsteadily and stumbled around the cabin, searching for something to dull the pain of the memory, the ache of knowing what he'd just done to Ana and the constant throbbing in his head.

Finding his bottle of rum, he moved past Ana toward the table.  He couldn't bring himself to look at her now. Not yet. Maybe later, maybe he'd say….something.

The cabin door opened at that moment and Gibbs stepped in, a tray of food in hands. The tense silence of the room caused the smile on his face to fade away. Now he looked quickly from Jack to Ana trying to discern what had taken place. His gaze settled on Ana who was just now standing, her body quivering and blood on her lip. She looked hurt, but more than physically.

Next, Gibbs cast an appraising eye towards Jack.  He was trembling and his face was flush. Ana had mentioned that she'd put him to bed with a fever, and while the fever was still evident, this was something more. Something dangerous. Something dark lurking in his eyes.

Turning to look Gibbs in the eye, Jack spoke one word. "Beltane." His voice rasped out. The word was spoken with such contempt that it sounded more like a curse than a name.

His eyes widened in surprise, but Gibbs nodded in understanding. Setting the tray down he walked over to Ana.

"Ye a'right lass?" He asked. She was trembling almost as badly as Jack.

Nodding, she looked at Jack then back to Gibbs, "What the hell was that? Who or what is Beltane?"

"Someone we knew a long time back. Jus' gimme a few minutes alone with'im, a'right?"

Looking at Gibbs now she saw the seriousness in his eyes. Whatever it was, she wasn't a part of it, and she wasn't needed.  Feeling the sting of dismissal, she swallowed, turned on her heel, and left; slamming the cabin door behind her.

Knowing a hurt female when he saw one, Gibbs sighed as he walked over to the table where Jack now sat.  He grabbed a blanket from the bed and laid it around his captain's shoulders, then took a seat at the table across from him.

Taking the bottle of rum, Gibbs poured two glasses, slid one over towards Jack, and waited.

"Twenty years, Josh."He mumbled, his head now cradled in his hands, elbows propped on the table. "I haven't thought about that bastard Beltane in twenty years. Why now?"

"She doesn't know about 'im I gather."

"What? No. I never wanted m'past touch'n 'er. But now….I …. I hit'r. I thought… I mean I could see him… I thought…" Sighing, Jack lowered his aching head to his hands.

"You don't have to explain to me lad, that's how we met remember? I was the one that found you buried in that collapsed room. I'm also the one who was assigned to watch ya after the surgeon finished patch'n ya up. I'll never be forgett'n all the hours I spent at yer side while ye was sick." Gibbs chuckled and shook his head as he continued. "Try'n t'hold ye down when those nightmares gripped ye in your fever. Fer me troubles, in that three weeks, ya credited me with one black-eye, a bloody nose and two lips split open."

A small smile creased Jack's face as he listened, staring down into his untouched glass of rum. His smile faded as he thought out loud, "But Ana? Gibbs, I…"

"Now you just hush up there a minute and listen t'me. Lad, your past is gonna touch all o'us on the Pearl. No get'n 'round that. And Ana, she's jus' as likely to get hurt by it as any of us. But that girl's got more back bone than most o'the men on this ship; an' smart too. The best way to protect her is to tell her. Tell her about the past so she'll be ready for the things that come her way. Give 'er a chance to understand." 

"Tell'r 'bout Beltane?"

Gibbs nodded. "Aye. That… or send 'er away. Your choice."

Examining his options, Jack shook his head. "I don't think I could do that. I couldn't send her away."

Getting up, Gibbs smiled and answered, "Good, 'cause I don't think she'd leave anyway." 

The door closed behind him as he left and Jack was alone once again in the cabin. Looking at the tray of food, Jack sighed and took a drink of his glass of rum. The alcohol burned a path down his sore throat and he winced. He felt like hell. His head still pounded, his nose was difficult to breath through, and his throat felt like it was on fire. 

He laid his head down on the table, nested in his arms, his fingertips drew the blanket closer around his shoulders. 

Feeling a presence in the room brought his eyes slowly open. Not sure how long he'd been asleep his snapped his head up quickly and his confused gaze met Ana's. She stood at the door, that wary look back in her eyes.

He stared at her a moment and noticed she never actually met his eyes. She walked stiffly into the room carrying another one of her hot tea and rum drinks and set it before him.

"Ye know who I am?" she asked stepping back from the table.

"Ana—."

"Good, drink that and get back in bed." And she turned to leave.

Standing up quickly he made it to the door just behind her but reaching an arm over her shoulder he held the door closed. "Damn it Ana, I want to talk to you. Do NOT leave this cabin!" 

She turned and he dropped his arm. She gave him her best cold stare. "Aye sir. Is that an order sir?"

"Does it need t'be?"

She didn't answer.

Reaching up he placed a hand on her cheek and his thumb gently caressed her lower lip where it was swollen and split. "Ana I—."

He never finished as her hand shot out quickly and connected with his face resulting in a resonating slap. The move was such a surprise that he spun completely around and stumbled back.

Staggering to remain upright, his hand rubbed at his now aching cheek. "Ok... I know I deserved that." he swayed. "Now that that's out of the way, do you mind if we sit down before I fall down?"

Concern now replacing the wariness, Ana reached out and caught his arms. Her hands on his flesh felt the heat that emanated from the fever. Her anger forgotten she moved him back until he was sitting on the bed. 

Suddenly filled with regret, Ana began. "Jack, I'm sorr--."

"Don't luv," Jack silenced her by gently placing a hand over her mouth. "I deserved that and more." His breathing stuttered inward until he released a string of sneezes. He quickly buried his face in the edges of the blanket draped over his shoulders, as the sneezing subsided.

Reaching a hand to feel his forehead, Ana smiled softly at his watering eyes. He was going to have one hell of a night.

"Ye addlebrained pirate, lay down b'fore ya keel over."

Shaking his head, Jack winced at the movement but said, "Not 'less ya lay down with me. Ye promised ya know?"

"Aye, I did and that's why I'm here. I just wasn't certain if…" Her voice trailed of as her gaze traveled to the many scars on his torso. She reached out tentatively but halted midway and began to withdraw. Jack didn't let her, however, as he grasped her hand and brought it to him to touch the smaller scars dotting his chest. Many were covered by new scars, but most were still clearly discernable. 

"Did I ever tell you how I got these little scars?" Swallowing hard, Ana shook her head in response. "Well, it's a bit of a long story if yo--." more sneezes interrupted. "… if you're innerest'd."

Wincing at the hoarse sound of his voice, she nodded. "You can tell me while you lie down."

With a sigh of relief and relaxed bliss, Jack lay back on the pillows. Once he was settled, Ana scooted under the covers and sidled up to him. Jack looked at her and attempted to clear his throat, grimacing at the pain. 

Sitting higher up against the pillows, Ana reached over and brought his head to her shoulder and cradled him protectively.

"It could wait until tomorrow Jack."

"No, no it can't. I'm thinkin' this'll be good fer the both of us, Luv." Jack took a deep breath and started. "About twenty years ago, in Madagascar, I had the misfortune of meeting up with one Etienne Beltane, a French opium trader. I'd only been Captain of the Pearl for a year. I think I was about 22 years old at the time…."

Jack talked and Ana listened long into the night as together they worked through the painful memory. Ana fought hard to restrain the tears that threatened at hearing about the pain Jack had endured, but her strength proved true. When it was over, they both got some much-needed rest, lying in one another's arms, protecting one another from the demons of the past.

*** Happy ending #2 ***

**Beta Note:  **Due to a technical difficulty, the wrong version of this chapter was posted the first time.  Everything is now as it should be!  

**Author's Notes:** Ok. That was a pretty dark chapter huh. Chapter 3, the last chapter I think, will go back to the lighter side of Jack and Ana's relationship. I promise. Most of the French words I translated, some, the sentences were so short and the fact that squeezing in the translated words got really confusing.. e-mail me if you want to know exactly what the non-translated words were. I'll be happy to impart them on you.

Special thanks to **_Amberlin_** for allowing me to loosely translate a torture scene in one of her fic's, to my story. Her permission was given with great enthusiasm and alacrity. I only hope this story did her's justice, but I doubt it. Thank you so much for you kind e-mails filled with encouragement to use my imagination.

HUGE thanks to my wonderful beta reader, **_Rat _**and her incredible French-speaking husband, **_Luc_**. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that both of you will be visiting us for Christmas. I have an entire evening planned to watch Pirates of the Caribbean about 3 times, then on to Benny & Joon, From Hell and Sleepy Hollow. Ah yes.. a great night of Johnny Depp movies…

AUTHOR PLUG!!!! My latest author plug is for **_Starzangel_**, her current on-going fic is Condemned and it is really amazing! Read her other PotC works: A Night in Tortuga and Marooned. All are truly OUT OF THIS WORLD!! There just aren't enough words.

LASTLY: Rat and I are winding down our multi-chapter fic's and are endeavoring to do some collaborative works. If you are interested, we have posted our first story to a neutral location on ff.net. We merged our muses names Ichabod and Moo to create the pen name **_Ichamoo_**. The first story is a ficlett, short but really sweet about Jack and Ana, titled _Pirates and Spies_. You might need it as a sort of 'happy pill' after this dark story. Rat and I hope you will go check it out and enjoy.

**REVIEWER'S:** I can't think you enough for reading and taking the time to post a review. You really make writing worth the effort and struggle. With the coming holidays here in the states, we are all going to be much busier. But I shall make a consorted effort to keep up with my favorites stories and review them all! Have an awesome Thanksgiving!

When will Chapter 3 come? Again, it floats around in my brain ready to take make birth in my computer. But I must get back to Best Intentions Gone Wrong. I'm sick of Jack being sick and he has some serious butt kicking to do. But I will do chapter 3, I promise. Unless you don't want me to. After this chapter, I can hardly blame you. ;-) But, at least this ended happy right? *looks around room nervously* Right?


	3. An Imperfect Past

**SHELTER IN THE STORM**

**CHAPTER 3: An Imperfect Past**

The shouts of alarm and panic spurred Joshamee Gibbs on faster. Making his way along the deck, he ran to reach the quickly growing cluster of crewman at the rail. Gathered around Anamaria, the men listened and watched as she called down to the churning water below. With a sinking feeling, he knew who she was talking to- Jack. No one else was unaccounted for. 

Desperate to glimpse what was happening, he stopped and leaned over the banister. What he saw made his heart jump. Jack, usually a strong swimmer, struggled to make it back to the Pearl. It was painfully obvious that he strained to keep his head above water, which could only mean one thing; he was hurt.

What the blazes had happened now? Swearing vehemently, he continued his hurried trek to reach the group of pirates ahead. He was to far away to hear what was being said, but clear as a bell he heard Anamaria's gasp. 

"A what?!" The female pirate retorted loudly. Not a heartbeat later, the female pirate, muttering oaths enough to make even the most seasoned sailor blush, shed her boots.

Just as he reached the congregated crew, he saw the first mate, climb to the top of the rail. Again, he moved to the side and glanced down to the water. Gibbs watched horrified as Jack seemed to lose his battle and his head disappeared beneath the waves.

"No." He whispered in quiet despair. Only seconds later, Ana's dove in after him. Turning to the nearest crewman, he asked, "What happened?"

"Jelly Fish sir. Cap'n's been stung."

"Jesus, Mary an' Joseph," Gibbs said in a sighed.

Now, they all watched and waited. Staring from the deck to the spot where both captain and first mate disappeared. It seemed like an eternity.

Mind whirling, he stared at the water as he thought back briefly to the mornings events. It had all started at breakfast. Most of the crew meandered into the galley for the first meal of the day, minus Jack and Anamaria. Nothing unusual about that. When time permitted, Ana slept in on occasion and Jack often rose early and headed to the helm. 

No, the panic didn't start until Anamaria appeared in the galley inquiring as to the captain's whereabouts. Moments later, Ladbroc. fresh off the daybreak watch, entered the galley. Hearing the topic of their conversation he informed them that shortly before sunup, the captain had emerged from his cabin clothed only in breeches. Waving to the watch in the crow's nest he stepped easily to the rail and executed a perfect swan dive off the side of the ship, and swam off to the east for a morning swim.

After that, Anamaria stormed about, gathered the scope and planted herself in the crow's nest. Facing east she worriedly watched and waited for his return. Well, Gibbs, thought as he stared at the churning sea, this would no doubt be the last time Jack ever went off swimming alone. The female pirate would see to that. 

A loud splash brought Gibbs out of his musings. Two dark heads broke the water's surface near the ships bow. A collective sigh and shouts of relief went up from the Pearl's crew.

"Rope! Now!" Ana demanded.

In response, two lines slapped the water to her left and right. Without releasing her hold on the limp form in her arms, Ana reached for one of the ropes. Obviously not trusting to his condition, she took the excess and looped it under his arms and tied it in front. She spoke quietly and Jack nodded in response. No one could hear what was said but the pirate's response reassured them all that he was both conscious and alive. 

Tilting her head back, she shouted, "Pull 'im up!"

The line was instantly drawn taught and Jack was yanked forcefully from the water. Gibbs, his eyes glued to the body as it arched high overhead, took off at a run. Noting the direction of his flight, he took the steps two at a time and was the first to reach him as he landed ungracefully on the quarterdeck.

Skittering to a halt before the still form of his captain, Gibbs took a moment to think. What on earth did he know about Jelly Fish stings? Nothing. Well, at least nothing positive. All he really knew was what he'd heard over the years. First, once the blighters got hold of you, they were devilishly hard to get free of. Second, the longer they stayed attached the more of their poison they could inflict. Staring at Jack's shirtless form Gibbs' eyes widened in alarm. There was a very large rash, red and blistering taking shape on the pirate captain's left side. That brought to mind one more piece of information; the larger the Jelly Fish, the greater the more dangerous their sting. They could inflict enough perilous toxins to kill a man. And, lastly, those larger varieties of vermin lived in the deeper fathoms of the sea, which was precisely where the Pearl was anchored. Holy Mother of God.

On the positive side, he did know that many a man survived their run-in with the deadly sea creatures. Maybe there was some hope. And, given that Jack was just to bloody stubborn to die, and that Anamaria had reserved the right to kill him for herself for all the bloody stupid things the man did to make her crazy, this one only adding to the list… that too might help.

Clearing his thought, Gibbs set about trying to assess the condition of the man lying motionless before him. Looking at Jack who lay curled into a tight ball protectively clutching his arms over his left side, the older sailor bent forward for a closer look. Kneeling to the deck the quartermaster gently turned the captain over.

"Cap'n?" He asked. Getting no response, he leaned in, "Jack?"

Suddenly, Jack's eyes sprung open. Surprised, Gibbs stumbled back and landed on his backside.

"Ge' this… bloody rope off…" The pirate captain slurred. With one arm, Jack fumbled and pulled frantically at the rope still secured around his chest.

Gibbs stared in confusion. The sheer look of panic in his captain's eyes left the older man stunned.

The knot didn't budge. Jack struggled to sit up. This got Gibbs attention. Scrambling over to the captain, he placed hands to his shoulders and easily pressed him back. "Easy, lad. A Jelly Fish sting's not somethin' t' be taken lightly. Perhaps ye shouldn't move."

Before Jack could argue, approaching footsteps and a blur of movement caught Gibb's eye.

Anamaria, barefoot and soaked to the bone, moved around and knelt next to the two men. "What's going on? Jack, lay still."

"Can't…" his hands stilled. Looking at her, his eyes pleaded for understanding. "I… I'm… gonna be…"

Ana's eyes widened. Without further comment, she quickly released the knot.

Even before the rope dropped away, Jack unexpectedly lurched to his feet. Now vertical, he staggered and stumbled away. After casting a questioning glance at Gibbs, Anamaria ran to follow.

Faster than Gibbs expected, the injured pirate practically ran the last few feet to the larboard rail. Once he reached his destination, he bent over and expelled the contents of his stomach.

Blanching at the sound, the quartermaster turned away.

Focus now altered, Gibbs noticed for the first time that nearly the entire crew had gathered on the upper deck. The looks on their faces mirrored his own internal feelings; worry, concern and uncertainty. He also noticed that the more their captain wretched into the sea, the more they averted their eyes. Whether out of respect, or just trying to keep their own breakfast down, he didn't know. It didn't really matter either. All that mattered was that they all seemed tp share the same measure of fear for their captain. 

This was uncharted territory, Gibbs was certain. The older man was quite certain that not a single man, or woman, among the crew knew the first thing about treating this type of injury… 

Well… except for one. Realizing this, he quickly scanned the faces on the deck. It didn't surprise him not to find him among the men.

"Marty," Gibbs called to the shorter crewman, "go fetch the cook."

"The cook?" the small sailor questioned.

"Aye. Go fetch Epperley."

With a shrug and a quick nod, he turned and left.

"Confounded, Jack Sparrow!" Hearing Anamaria's exasperated voice, Gibbs turned his attention back to the two pirates. "Let me have a look!"

"No. Don'… don' touch it…" Jack pulled away. "If'n ya do… ye'd get some… of the poison…on yer self… Seen men stung b'fore… I know… wha'… wh-..." Before he could finish, Jack's eyes widened. Twisting away suddenly, he thrust his head between the rungs and heaved again into the water below.

After several minutes, the convulsions ceased. Ana then helped an exhausted captain turn around and leaned him back against the rail. With his eyes closed and panting heavily, his face took on a sickly pallor that made Gibbs worry double. The pirate captain's normally tan face looked flush in the bright sunlight. The onset of fever was evident in the fine sheen of perspiration that formed on his face.

The situation was serious enough to possibly break a deal he'd made with the Pearl's newest crewman. But first, he needed to ascertain if that was really necessary, to see if the deal he'd made with the cook needed breaking. Far be it from him to expose any mans past if he truly wanted it hidden. 

Gesturing to Ana, he caught her eye and motioned to her to come over. Reluctantly, she stood and did as he requested.

"What is it?" she asked. The irritation in her voice made it obvious to Gibbs that she did not like being pulled away from Jack's side. Her gaze constantly traveled back to where he now sat alone. 

"Ana, have ye ever dealt with this kinda injury b' fore? One from a Jelly Fish I mean?"

"What?" She said, her eyes snapping at the quartermaster in frustration. "No, but if he won't let me look at his side, how can I even begin to try?" Flapping her arms in exasperation.

Gibbs nodded and the flustered female pirate turned and stomped back to where the captain rested. Clearly, she was prepared for battle. However, when it came to stubborn, Jack and Ana were a perfect and even match.

That answered that. Time to call a halt to an agreement made after to many tankards of rum. Gibbs hadn't meant for the young man to talk so freely, but after the storm and seeing the green, newly acquired cook a bundle of nerves, he'd sat Epperley down and there the two had talked at length. A past was brought to light and filed away for future need, and that future was now upon them. 

The quartermaster's thoughts were interrupted. Enroute back to Jack Anamaria had halted, for some reason.  Gibbs brow furrowed in confusion. As she turned around slowly, Gibbs noticed the dagger filled gaze and was somewhat relieved that it wasn't' him she was now looking at. _What the…?_ he thought following her dark stare. It seemed to halt at a point just behind him…

"What 'er ye lookin' at?" she shouted suddenly. Eyes narrowed, fists curled at her side, she advance on the crew. "Quit standin' 'round gawkin'! Loafers the lot a ye. Ye seen a injured man b'fore. Haul in canvas! Secure the lines! Back to work, ye ninnies! NOW!" 

During her tirade, she ran about the deck shouting like a banshee. Gibbs, glad he wasn't on the receiving end of her wrath, grinned as the men jumped and scurried to retreat from her rage. Shooting a glance at the captain, sure to see a shared smile, Gibbs' grin slowly faded. 

Jack's eye's remained closed and his arms tightly clutched to his side. No reaction whatsoever, he only sat there. Not good. Leaving the melee of retreating men, Ana rushed quickly back to his side.

Looking again at the backs of the withdrawing crew and back to Jack, Gibbs slapped a hand to his head. _Of course_, he realized. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe the captain might not like the crew standing around watching as he wretched and puked his guts out. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Again he watched the crew continue to scramble two and three at a time to descend the stairs. It was still quite the sight and he couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. Given the bottleneck at the stairs, he noticed that some of the men opted to vault the side rail to escape. Still others looked as if they might alter their course and jump overboard, should the female pirate drew any nearer. Well, hell hath no fury like Anamaria on a rampage.

Doing a double take, he caught sight of the cook, Epperly. The slim young man barely managed to make it up the steps and out of the way before the surge of exited crewman could push him back. Now, the young doctor stood off to the side, pressed against the rail, with a hand pressed over his heart. As the furor ebbed, the cook breathed a sigh of relief and cautiously approached the quartermaster. 

"Well," he said breathlessly, "that was… terrifying. You know, Mr. Gibbs, I rather imagined that if I died at the hands of a pirate, it would indeed be his hands or something in his hands that did the deed. Somehow, being trampled by them just doesn't merit the same glorious end to ones rather dull life. Don't you agree?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Better that than havin' Anamaria after yer hide."

"Ah, I suppose."

In unison, the two men turned and looked to the place near the rail where Jack and Ana argued quietly.

The doctor sighed and asked, "What's happened?" 

"Jelly Fish stung the cap'n whil'st he was out swimmin'."

"Good Lord. Did he get the creature off?" Eyes squinted; he attempted to get a better look, yet remained rooted to one spot.

"From what I could see, 'ppears so." Gibbs looked at the younger man. "Tom, I'm thinkin' this breaks our accord."

"I know." Epperley replied quietly. A weak smile played at his lips. "I owe Captain Sparrow for dragging my sorry carcass out of that tavern and giving me a place on board his ship. But I wonder, given my past, do you think Captain Sparrow will accept my assistance?"

Tilting his head in thought for a moment, Gibbs answered. "Yer past is the last thing Jack's going to be concerned about, I guarantee. But, I told ye b'fore, my thoughts on that, yer wife was sufferin' and ye did what was necessary to ease her pain. Easin' pain is what a doc's supposed t' do."

"But a doctor is _not_ supposed to kill. That choice I made."

"I'm thinkin' what ye did took more nerve that if ye hadn't. Tom, we all make choices we regret. And Jack, he's no different, pirate or not"

"No disrespect intended, but," dropping his voice, Tom continued. "when referring to Captain Sparrow as 'different', that is an enormous understatement."

"Aye, Tom, tha's our Jack." The older man laughed. "But, I can honestly say that if ye decide to stay on with us after we reach St. Martin, I wager you'll come to know and appreciate that _difference_. The man's daft, no doubt, but he's both smart and very loyal to his crew. And, believe me, Anamaria's not one to suffer fools without damn good reason."

"Love is reason enough, I'm sure." Tom grinned. "Even with all the bickering the two of them do, I can see what's really at heart." The young man's face took on a distant look as he continued. "I'm reminded of my older brother Steven and his wife Margaret. Before they married, oh how the two of them fought. My nanny used to call it love, and I called her crazy. She'd say, 'love is blind, but the neighbor's ain't'. Sure enough, she was right. Still married today, in fact."

"Well, pirates ain't likely t' marry. But between the two of them, sparks aplenty do fly around here." 

"Ah, but sometimes the sparks are what make life interesting." The cook added.

"Glad ye feel that way, Tom, because it's time to waded in for a fight. Got to b'fore Ana comes undone and fairly throttles Jack. Word o' warnin' son, Jack, he ain't known t' be the best patient on this ship. Fact is he's the worst."

"I take it you've been in similar predicaments before?"

"Aye. Pirates tend to get in scrapes every now and again."

"Pirates in general, or do you refer strictly to Captain Sparrow?"

"Pirate ships ain't safe, mate. Pirate captain's, just like any ship's captain, are protective of their ships and crew. Responsibility is a thing Jack feels deeper than most, I'd say. Fact is, he tends to feel everything a mite deeper. No matter that he tries to hide it, we know it." Gibbs looked at Epperley for a moment. "Makes me wonder, then. Why'd ya agree to work aboard a pirate ship bound for more trouble than not? Might be a merchant ship woulda been safer."

Epperley looked away guiltily. "Ah, I won't lie to you. I guess I never expected pirates to become the sort of people I could come to like or be concerned about." Again he looked at Jack and Ana. A smile lighted his face. "I was wrong."

"Good enough." Gibbs smiled. "Well, do ye think yer ready then?"

"No."

"Waitin' won't make it any easier, lad. Might as well get it over with."

"Well," the younger man swallowed audibly, "think there's a chance that he might just… pass out?"

"Who, Jack?" Casting a doubtful glance at the captain and first mate, Gibbs listened to their tense but quiet conversation. Ana now pressed a damp cloth to the back of Jack's neck. "I s'pose if'n we wait long enough, an' he keeps refusin' to let her help… Knowin' Anamaria, she just might oblige us in that. But, then he'd likely be in a worse mood when he woke." Clapping a reassuring hand to the young man's back, he finished. "Come on, lad. Between the three of us, we'll manage."

As the two men advanced, Anamaria looked up at them, perplexed. 

"What's this?" She eyed the cook, "I thought I gave orders to get back to work. Gibbs, help me get Jack to his cabin."

"Hold on, lass. First," Gibbs quickly cut in. "I think we might just want to let Mr. Epperley here get a look at Jack's side. Ya see, Tom's got some doctorin' experience." The old sailor nodded for Tom to take over.

After casting a nervous look at Gibbs, Tom took a reluctant step forward…

"'S nothin'…" Jack interrupted. "I can't … handle."

The injured pirate slowly lifted his head and looked at the two men. His eyes went from the cook then to Gibbs, before settling on the latter. While the young man flinched under the scrutiny, to his credit, he stood fast. In fact, he straightened a bit and squared his shoulders before speaking.

"Um…" The cook began. "Yes, Captain Sparrow…while I'm sure might be right, well, you see…I was a doctor in Port au Prince, where you first found me. I've some experience with Jelly Fish stings."

"Doctor?" Anamaria said. She looked accusingly at Gibbs. "How long have ye known?"

Gibbs opened and closed his mouth, searching for the right words.

"It was at my request." Epperley added quickly. "Don't blame him."

Ignoring the cook, Anamaria continued to stare at the quartermaster. Gibbs swallowed heavily and said, "Since just after the storm, two weeks ago."

"When Jack was sick?" Her eyes went from incredulous to dark with rage. She turned her dark eyes on the doctor. "And you did nothing?"

"I assure you," Epperley defended, "if Captain Sparrow's condition had not improved, I'd have come forward then, as I am doing now. His illness after the storm proved little more than a severe flu. But this, this is something entirely different and more serious. Please, I can help, if you will allow me."

"No!" Jack said, stronger this time. The three quieted as Jack lifted his head again. Fever bright eyes bore a hole into the men standing before him. "Don' need… help. Jus' get me… to me cabin. I know wha' t' do."

"If you don't mind my asking, Captain," Tom continued, "would you mind telling me what treatment you've planned on administering?"

A slow grin slid across the pirates' ashen face. "Suffice it t' say, doc, or cook, or whatever you are, it's nothin'… ya'd do on the deck of a ship. Requires a bit o' privacy. Savvy?"

"Ah." Tom nodded slowly. "Then, you… do know."

"Know what?" Anamaria asked impatiently.

"Doc?" Gibbs inquired next. 

"Well," the doctor began somewhat reluctantly, "it requires… a… a human… fluid." He finished with a grimace.

Thinking this over a moment, Gibbs shrugged, "We got plenty o' fluids on board, Tom. Lemme see, there's rum, grog, even some fancy French wine and ale…"

The doctor reddened. He leaned toward the older man and muttered, "Not alcohol, Mr. Gibbs. A human generated fluid… Urine, to be exact. Preferably, male… urine.

"Urine?" Gibbs asked, loudly. Shaking his head, he still didn't understand…

"Piss!" Jack shouted. A deep chuckle erupted from the pirate. "Bloody hell, Mr. Gibbs, he means piss!"

Shocked silence answered.

"Oh." Gibbs finally managed. After glancing shyly at Anamaria he noticed how she bit down hard on her lower lip, apparently trying to stifle a laugh. Eyes downcast, she now seemed to find the tops of her feet very interesting.

"Epperley, is it?" Jack inquired. At Tom's nod, he continued. "Well, if yer goin' t' stay on this ship, those gentle bred, high society, British ways will have to be put on hold. No since dancin' 'round the baser parts o' life here, mate."

Seeing the doctor's puzzled look, Jack grinned and continued. "Piece o' advice, mate; subtlety's lost on pirates. You're better off using the more direct approach amongst buccaneers. Savvy?"

"I'm beginning to… savvy. Yes."

The pirate captain chuckled then stopped. A grimace of pain flashed across his face. With his jaw tightly clenched, he continued. "Well,… if ye'd be so kind, I'd like t' go t' me cabin. Puking in front of me crew once… 's bad enough. Twice… 's unthinkable. 'N… thrice?"

They all watched as the captain's face paled and his breathing quickened.

The doctor stepped quickly forward and hooked an arm under one of the pirate's shoulders, Anamaria the other and together they lifted Jack to his feet. Gibbs turned to lead they way. His mind still attempted to erase the images of just how the '_medicine_' would be… applied. As they moved along, Gibbs listened to the conversation continue behind him.

"I tol' ye doc," Jack spoke in low tones. "I know wha' t' do."

"Yes." Tom answered. "But I seriously doubt that you will be able to… _administer_ your own… _medicine_ to that particular location… without some…_assistance_."

"God teeth, Jack." The female pirate cut in. "Ye never shoulda' gone swimmin' alone. I swear, that's the last time ye'll put me through somethin' like this."

As the four moved toward the steps, Gibbs chuckled quietly to himself as the three continued to argue. 

Suddenly Gibbs stopped. Before him the faces of the crew peered through the railing, many wearing knowing grins.

"Back t' work, ye mangy gobs," he yelled, "or it'll be you I'll be feedin' to the Jelly Fishes. Now, move!"

All smiles faded and the Pearl once again, came to life with bustling activity.

~end~

**Author's Notes:** Ugh.. I had this ready to post last week, but there was some kind of weird formatting problem. Every time I viewed the document in ff.net, it was all messed up! I'd never seen it look THAT bad. So I removed the chapter. Tried to fix it, then reposted. Yet again, it was all… weird! So, reluctantly, I ended up retyping the thing, and that only leads to trouble for me, as I tend to change things… ALL THE TIME! Sorry for the false alarms with regard to posting and thank you for your patience.

The idea for this little story came from our family camping trip down to Corpus Christie, and the Gulf of Mexico. We camped on the beach, built sand castles, swam in the ocean and then, on our last night there, watched our tent blow away during a hellacious storm. Nice. Oh well, on the positive side, we were not in the tent when it got carried away.

So, every morning, um.. before the storm, we would wake and the kids would rush back to the shore to swim. Along the beach there were always dozens of Jelly Fish, partially buried in the sand. They were small, but no less a concern as the park patrol came along daily and scooped them up. 

Once we got home, I began researching their lethal sting. It's true. Male urine is the best thing to remove their painful poison or venom.  My husband, after reading this story, said he was reminded of an episode of Friends. Well, I guarantee, I don't watch much TV- there just isn't time. Besides, sitcom's bore me to tears, and the last good TV show, Angel, is nearly at an end.

AAAanywho… I owe this chapter to three very good friends and shipmates;

**Rat:** thank you for your continued caring and patience as beta, but mostly, for your enduring friendship. You inspire and encourage me to write, and for that, I thank you. 

**Barb/Wolfgazer:** Thank you for sharing with me the incident of when you were stung by a Jelly Fish. There is a very VERY good reason for my doctor's last name… he is dedicated to the strength and level headedness your mother showed in the face of your experience. An amazing Mom indeed. Give her a copy of this for Mother's Day, and a rose.

**Amber/AhiFlame:** LOL.. On IM I told you the premise for this little chapter and your encouragement and laughter really leant me the perseverance to get it done. Thank you for your steady stream of positive affirmation and incredibly wonderful support.

And LASTLY!

Each of these authors's is brilliant! Each has a story in progress on FF.NET and I trust you will seek them out, if you've not done so already. I'll have a 4th, and possibly a 5th chapter of Shelter soon. The doctor will remain on board the Pearl as I've grown very fond of the man. I imagine he looks a bit like Wesley from Angel. Well, he's losing his job soon, so I figured he needed this gig.

-_~

Ta!


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